


Pink is the new White

by jadehqknb



Series: The Good Ship Yachi [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Art Designer Yachi, Established Relationship, F/M, businessman iwaizumi, laundry mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24244684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadehqknb/pseuds/jadehqknb
Summary: A laundry mishap has Hajime on the warpath but attention to details should be made.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Yachi Hitoka
Series: The Good Ship Yachi [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1060073
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	Pink is the new White

**Author's Note:**

> Song on loop: [arms, by Christina Perri](https://open.spotify.com/track/5u0YB9bpmgEPS2bPhwfRFV?si=FifQ9i_6QCifyhUXylmQWw)
> 
> Thanks to Stacy for [prompt #35](https://sentence-fragments.tumblr.com/post/128655641230/101-fluffy-prompts): **Your stray red item turned my whites pink**  
> 

Hitoka sat humming at the kitchen table, hand whipping across the page, her sketch starting to come to life. The music in her ears may have been able to shut out most of the world but it certainly wasn’t loud enough to drown Hajime’s angry curses as he burst into the apartment, laundry basket under his arm. 

“Can’t believe that asshole would stoop to this!” Hajime slammed the basket down, making Hitoka jump. 

He looked up at her as she removed her earbuds, still scowling but she could see he was working to calm down before he spoke to her and she couldn’t help appreciating that, even in his evident anger, he was trying not to put her out any more than he already had. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grunted and her heart fluttered at the term of endearment. 

“What happened?” she asked quietly, taking slow steps towards him. She still wasn’t exactly sure how to comfort or help him when he was this upset despite their many months together. 

“You remember that—” he paused, taking in a deep breath. Starting again, he said, “You remember that guy downstairs that claimed I killed his plants?” Hitoka nodded, still perplexed how someone could believe Hajime would do such a thing not to mention _how_ he did it. “Well, he’s done it this time! I’m going to tar and feather his ass! This is _actual_ property damage!”

Hitoka remained silent, waiting for him to actually explain what he was going to commit assault and feathering for. Finally, he pulled out a garment from the discarded basket on the floor, “Just look at this! Every. Single. One. _Pink!”_ He threw the still damp button-down shirt back into the mass of fabric that, now that Hitoka looked at it and not her fuming boyfriend, _did_ contain a rather large amount of pink, ranging from petal-soft to splotchy vibrant in some spots. 

She dipped down, sorting through the clothes. “And you think he did this?” she asked, looking at him. 

“Of course he did! We passed each other in the hall. I’d just put the load in to wash. And low and behold, by the time I’m back from my run, _this_ happened!” He gestured to the clothes. 

Hitoka stood up, bringing the basket with her. “I’ll hang them up to dry. Maybe I can do something with them,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what that would be. 

“Don’t waste your time. I’ll just chuck them.” 

“I don’t mind,” she insisted and hurried to the back patio where a clothesline was strung between two posts. She took out the step ladder and one by one she added a shirt, a pair of pants, another shirt, a—

She squealed, her face turning as bright a shade of red as the panties in her hand used to be. Only now, they were faded, and her eyes widened with horror when she realized the implication but it was too late to hide them because Hajime had sprinted out the door to her at the sound of her distress. 

They remained in stupefaction, staring at each other, to the shirts then back to the panties which Hitoka did _not_ know why she was still holding up like that. She flung them down, covering her face not only in mortification but dismay because it was _her_ fault practically all of Hajime’s new work clothes were ruined. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said, voice muffled by hands and tears. 

In an instant, Hajime was pulling her into his arms, pressing kisses to the top of her head and running his fingers through her hair. “No, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” 

“But it is!” Hitoka pushed back to look at his face. “Those are my pant—” her voice cut off as Hajime clamped one hand over her mouth. 

“I was the one who put them in my pocket,” he whispered, nodding up to where Hitoka saw the mean neighbor staring down at them.

Hitoka's face flushed even darker red as memories of the holiday party came back to her and she wanted to _die._

Hajime pulled her inside, locking the sliding door. He pulled her close again, cupping her face. “Hitoka, my darling, sweet angel, I’m so sorry I lost my shit over something so stupid. It was _my_ dumbass who didn’t check my pockets, ok? This isn’t your fault. Say you understand.” 

Hitoka nodded but Hajime wasn’t satisfied. “Out loud. Say, “This is not my fault and I don’t have to fix it.” 

“This is not my fault,” Hitoka repeated shakily. It took a few seconds before she could add quietly, “And I don’t have to fix it.” 

“Good girl,” Hajime praised, giving her a kiss. “Now, do you mind finishing up dinner? I’ll hang up the rest of the clothes, ok?”

Confused at his sudden willingness to keep the damaged items, Hitoka merely nodded and went into the kitchen to finish cooking. By the time she had their meal plated, Hajime was back and seated at the table. 

They ate in silence until Hitoka muttered, more to herself than to Hajime, “It’s a good thing you didn’t tar and feather him for nothing.” 

There was a pause and then Hajime snorted and then they were both laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all. 

The next morning, Hitoka’s face turned as pink as the shirt she saw Hajime pull on. “Wh… what are you wearing!” she exclaimed, pointing to it. 

Hajime gave a wolfish grin. “Somehow, knowing where this came from, I don’t mind the color pink so much anymore.” He fixed his tie, white with flecks of gold on it, and turned to face her. “Besides, I think pink compliments my skin tone, don’t you?” 

He was right, his dark skin looked good against the faint pink of the shirt. He leaned in to kiss her, murmuring, “Now I get to keep a little piece of you with me all day and no one knows but me where it came from. I think that’s pretty hot.”

“Hajime,” Hitoka whimpered, fingers clenching his shirt. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart. I’ll come over to your place tonight.” He kissed her again, then just as he reached the door, said over his shoulder, “Make sure to wear something red for me, eh?” And then he was gone.


End file.
